


Picture Me Gone

by Kindassunshine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Kissing, Love Potion/Spell, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kindassunshine/pseuds/Kindassunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Do you love me?’<br/>‘Yes,’ Dumbledore rasped after a pause; he sounded different, dazed like a sleepwalker. Riddle’s mouth twitched.<br/>‘Show me,’ he ordered, in a voice of chill command Harry recognised all too well. </p>
<p>Years after the final battle Harry takes another trip into the the Pensieve and discovers something he'd have rather not known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picture Me Gone

**Author's Note:**

> It's fun to imagine a time when Voldemort had to work a little harder to make his evil plans come together :) 
> 
> The 'Dark Lord' I'm referring to in this is Grindelwald - I can't actually remember him being called this but he was presumably getting his act together about this time... and dark lord seems like a coverall title for these types. 
> 
> And yes, okay I know a love potion's a cop out but really this isn't senseless smut! (okay it is...) 
> 
> Enjoy!

Harry blinked as the room came into smoky focus around him. It was small, containing a desk and armchair next to a roaring fire. He was surprised to find he knew where he was – it was Professor McGonagall’s office. The sky he could see though the arched windows was dark and star-scattered.   
Behind the desk Harry saw something else he recognised, or rather someone. Younger but still achingly familiar, an auburn-haired Albus Dumbledore sat writing apparently completely absorbed. The room seemed to be almost unnaturally quiet, nothing could be heard accept the scratching of quill on parchment and the soft crackle of the fire.  
After watching Dumbledore tenderly for a few moments Harry glanced behind him, flinching back in shock. At a small desk facing the other, a boy sat frowning; his black hair looked a little rumpled like he’d been running his hand through it. He appeared to be writing a long essay, several thick and complex transfiguration books lay open at his elbows. As Harry watched the boy dropped his quill with a sigh and looked up. Harry felt a jolt in his chest like he’d been jump started. A teenaged Tom Riddle looked through him indifferently.   
Harry swallowed, trying to slow his breathing and beginning to understand. Thinking about it he should have guessed from the label; TMR in Dumbledore’s sloping handwriting, on a small bottle of silver-white memory found, years later, in Dumbledore’s personal affects.   
At his back Harry could still hear the even moments of Dumbledore’s quill. After rubbing between his dark eyebrows, Riddle sighed softly and returned to the parchment that was already dangling nearly to the floor. Harry glanced back to Dumbledore; why would he have kept this memory? And not shown it to Harry when he’d been preparing him for the final battle? Dumbledore had looked up at Riddle’s sigh. His blue eyes narrowed a little but after a pause he slipped a silver cigarette case from inside his robes, standing up. Moving around the desk he took a cigarette and put it between his lips, then wordless offered Riddle the case. With a mildly surprised look the boy took one murmuring thanks and lighting it, as Dumbledore had, with a snap of his fingers.   
‘I shouldn’t be telling you this,’ Dumbledore murmured, strolling to the window, exhaling purplish smoke, ‘but if you carry on this way you will be the highest achiever this school has ever seen.’ Riddle stared at his back with an unreadable expression, Harry shivered, ‘I’m sure Professor Slughorn has spoken to you about the future,’ Dumbledore continued taking another drag.   
‘I have no desire to be kept under glass,’ Riddle huffed, standing now too. As Riddle joined Dumbledore at the window Harry fought a mad urge to flinch back. Although he was thin and white-faced, Harry had to admit there was nothing of the monster visible in him. Unless the firelight caught his eyes at a particular angle, making them gleam red.   
‘It’s natural for teachers to want to nurture such talent… especial considering the start you’ve had in life.’ Riddle’s face twitched. Dumbledore paused, he seemed to be considering, ‘I have a few connections myself, within the Ministry, who would be delighted to have you in their departments.’ Riddle snorted derisively, Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at him and Harry stared between them.  
‘Work for incompetent cowards?’ he hissed as Dumbledore regarded him, ‘who would leave us at the mercy of a Muggle army and a so-called Dark Lord?’ Harry frowned, wishing he remembered more from History of Magic classes.   
‘You would do well not to dwell on such matters, Tom,’ Dumbledore sighed, moving to sit in the violet armchair. Riddle watched him, a very ugly look on his handsome face.   
‘I am nearly of age in this world, Professor,’ he muttered coldly, ‘and this pure-blood mania sickens me.’ Harry stared at him; certainly much had changed between this boy and the man who became Voldemort. Dumbledore hunched forward but didn’t speak. ‘What is an ocean of magical blood worth? Without power… without structure, without sanity!’ Riddle growled exhaling smoke like an angry dragon, ‘this Dark Lord is a fool; even Slytherin himself could not rule alone.’ Riddle flicked the end of the cigarette into the fire where it sparked purple. They were silent for a moment.   
‘But even the greatest friendships end,’ Dumbledore muttered glumly, ‘those we love tear off their masks, and the truth is so unbearably ugly it poisons all our life’s happiness.’ Riddle and Harry stood shoulder to shoulder staring at him but the younger Dumbledore was staring intently into the fire.   
Without speaking Riddle drew his wand, twirling it lightly he conjured a pair of goblets and a bottle, which poured itself in mid-air. He caught one of the goblets before taking a small bottle from inside his robes. Harry swiped at him, fist sailing right through a pale hand, before remembering he was less corporeal than smoke. Riddle added four drops of the potion, counting on his fingers, reddish eyes flicking occasionally to the back of Dumbledore’s head. Then he moved forward, handing the goblet to Dumbledore, who sat back taking a deep draft.  
‘Perhaps you are the one who should not be dwelling, Professor,’ Riddle murmured. Harry shouted pointlessly but had to watch seething as Riddle stood slightly to the back of the chair waiting. He sipped at the wine making a face, then sipping again.   
‘What have you done?’ Dumbledore muttered into the silence, though his voice was calm Harry could see the hand that held the goblet was shaking. Riddle set down his own goblet smiling. He moved around the chair, kneeling on the hearth rug and leaning up to tuck Dumbledore’s hair out of his face. Dumbledore gave a convulsive shudder. Riddle’s eye gleamed.  
‘Now don’t panic, Amortenia is quiet harmless… though it’s terribly tricky to make,’ he explained, voice cool and low, more like the one Harry remembered, ‘only a few drops for just a short time, a… fit of passion,’ he cackled, ‘I need something on you, you see? You’re the only one who can’t be controlled by more… mundane means; it’s been making things very difficult.’ His expression hardened, ‘so I thought… what would you never want me to tell anyone?’ Riddle brightened again, ‘I read your essay, y’know, the one you co-authored with our favourite pure-blood supremacist.’  
‘Dippet… knows…’ Dumbledore panted, bringing his hand to rest on Riddle’s throat. Riddle closed his eyes like a contented cat.   
‘Dippet knows what you told him,’ he sneered, eyes flicking open, ‘and you didn’t tell him everything,’ Dumbledore’s eyes widened in understanding, Riddle inclined his head. ‘You think anyone really cares about the slaughter of so much mud-blood cattle? But if they knew you were a-’ here Riddle paused smirking, ‘is there a different word for it?’   
‘I will… not… they won’t… believe,’ Dumbledore growled, pulling his hand back with difficulty.   
‘Of course they will, it’s all here in my head… or it will be; modifying your own memory is much easier when you have something to work with,’ Riddle smiled at him sweetly, then in mock-shock, ‘just think what they’ll say: “you corrupted and coerced a fifteen-year-old boy, your own student, into an act of depravity”… and who’s to say I’m the first? You’ll be more of a pariah than that perverted freak of a brother you’ve got.’ Dumbledore suddenly staggered to his feet. ‘Don’t bother,’ Riddle sighed, rolling reddish eyes, ‘I’ll admit you’re strong willed but my power is stronger.’ After swaying Dumbledore sank into the chair and Riddle sat up, sliding his hands on to his knees. He was biting his lip and seemed to be trying very hard not to start laughing uncontrollably. Harry started forward fist clenched in fury before realising he was unable to throttle a memory. Finally Riddle got a grip on himself and asked Dumbledore calmly: ‘do you love me?’  
‘Yes,’ Dumbledore rasped after a pause; he sounded different, dazed like a sleepwalker. Riddle’s mouth twitched.  
‘Show me,’ he ordered, in a voice of chill command Harry recognised all too well. For a moment Dumbledore didn’t move but then, as Harry watched in shock and revulsion, lowered his head and kissed the dark boy. Riddle leaned back, laughing icily. Dumbledore slid onto the hearth rug, embracing a cackling Riddle. Dumbledore lay on top of the still giggling boy, long ginger hair obscuring most of his face, Hogwarts robes rucked up around his waist. He quietened as Dumbledore kissed him again. Harry looked around wildly, trying to pull himself out of the memory. He hadn’t thought it was possible to hate Voldemort more.   
He could hear soft sounds of pleasure but was shocked when he turned back to see Riddle’s flushed face. Dumbledore was kissing his chest, having pulled open his robes and shirt. Harry got the feeling that Voldemort had not anticipated what the actual act would involve. Riddle pulled the other back to his mouth sitting up legs splayed either side of Dumbledore’s knees. They kissed, Dumbledore running his hands over Riddle’s unpleasantly prominent ribs. Then Dumbledore’s hands moved lower, unthreading his belt and opening his trousers. Riddle gasped, arching his back, as Dumbledore took hold of him. Dumbledore kissed shoulder murmuring to him comfortingly. Riddle groaned catching Dumbledore’s wrist.  
‘It’s okay, darling,’ Dumbledore told him gently. The softness of his voice made Harry’s stomach contract with pity. Riddle seemed to recover a little, still panting.  
‘Get on with it,’ he grunted sharply, tightening his grip on the other. If the enchanted Dumbledore thought anything amiss with this he’d didn’t say it. Riddle turned, pulling off his long robe as Dumbledore wrapped his arms around his waist, settling the boy in his lap. Riddle was naked now apart from his half-open shirt, the firelight licking against his colourless skin. He shifted restless as Dumbledore pulled at his own clothing.   
After a final jerk Dumbledore sat up a little, tipping Riddle onto his knees and muttering something as he slid his hand between them, resting the other on a pale hip. Riddle hissed but Dumbledore didn’t move away from him until their hips were fitted tightly together. Riddle was flushed, teeth bared and back arched, even his toes were curled up in fury. Dumbledore sat back onto his heels bringing Riddle with him. He gave a low moan. Dumbledore tucked his head into Riddle’s slim shoulder, fitting one hand over him pulling gently and resting the other on his stomach to keep him in place as he began to undulate.   
Riddle’s mouth was open, sticky and red in firelight. He was moving with Dumbledore, a slow roll that increased in pace. Until Riddle jerked with a hoarse roar, back bowing, hands digging claw-like into the flesh of his thighs. Dumbledore groaned appreciatively, fingers leaving a trail of glossy liquid as he moved his hand to rub the small of Riddle’s back. After a moment Dumbledore gripped him firmly again giving a deep thrust. Riddle grunted then gasped as Dumbledore shivered sinking into him. Riddle endured this until Dumbledore relaxed his grip on him and he was able to wriggle lose. Their bodies parting with a slick sound. Riddle was grumbling under his breath, pulling his wand from his robes to scourge the mess on thighs. Dumbledore was still holding onto him.  
‘Enough,’ he muttered, pushing his hands away, ‘I said enough.’ But Dumbledore had already released him, frowning now. Harry looked away, heart aching, unable to watch the horrified expression appear on Dumbledore’s face.   
‘Oh so quickly?’ Riddle watched interestedly as Dumbledore looked down at his gapping robes. ‘Perhaps it needed more rose thorns…’ Dumbledore covered his face with his hands, ‘don’t let it trouble you,’ Riddle told him clearly amused, standing to retrieve his Hogwarts robes, ‘just keep your nose out and I’ll make sure your career here is a long and prosperous one.’ Dumbledore reached into his robes withdrawing his wand. Riddle arched dark brows at him.  
‘Are you going to curse me?’ he smirked.  
‘No, Tom, I’m not,’ Dumbledore said quietly without looking at him, now scourging his own robes as Riddle had done. Riddle and Harry watched mutely as he vanished the goblet and its contents, which had spilled on the floor. Dumbledore straightened, brushing past Riddle as he returned to his desk. Settling behind it Dumbledore began rearranging his papers. After another long minute of silence Dumbledore spoke; ‘I think it’s time for you to leave, Tom, if you are quite finished with me.’ Riddle’s face hardened and Harry thought for a moment he might refuse but with a flick of robes he stalked across the tiny office. He paused before the closed door.  
‘So we understand each other?’ he murmured, his back to Dumbledore. Harry saw Dumbledore close his eyes briefly.   
‘I certainly understand you,’ he answered, blue fire in his eyes. Harry thought Riddle momentarily stiffened but he didn’t speak as slipped through the door pulling closed at his back. Harry could see the edges of the room blurring and felt as though he were floating to the surface of the rapidly dissolving thought. The last thing to disappear from his vision was the auburn haired Dumbledore covering his face with his hands.


End file.
